


home, with you

by wingspike



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, not SUPER explicit but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingspike/pseuds/wingspike
Summary: if you want it, i have it / i'll do it, just ask it





	

**Author's Note:**

> first klance fic ... here we go.  
> i've been on a big klance kick and read way too many fics trying to pass time at work so figured i might as well write something even though i am rusty as all get out but motivation struck. i kind of skimmed it when editing it and most was written in the AM when i was off work so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> lyrics in the fic description are from the song i would by coin.

Lance loves Keith like this. He loves Keith sprawled out below him, boxer briefs dark in contrast to his pale skin (as well as being the only thing left on), legs spread so invitingly and effortlessly. His hair looks to be artfully tousled, even though it’s generally a mess and they only managed to make it messier from kissing too much, from tumbling into bed in the half-dark of their room. Lance loves Keith with the soft look on his face that he feels like he only sees in the morning when Keith is still adjusting to the early light, shutting off his third alarm and regretting getting out of bed any earlier than two in the afternoon.

Keith is simply marvelous to Lance.

Keith is Lance’s favourite.

He is Lance’s favourite whether he’s lying on their shared bed, soft around the edges and lazily pulling Lance in for another five minutes of rest before he _really_ has to leave the comfort and warmth of the blankets; or if Keith’s looking confident, beating another training bot or zooming around a corner on his motorbike with Lance’s arms wrapped tight around his waist while taking a corner they both know is a little too quick for his stomach but fuels Keith’s adrenaline all the same.

Keith is mostly Lance’s favourite here, at home. _Their_ home, home on Earth and a home that they have made with each other after a war that could not have come to an end sooner. Home is a place where Keith can finally find it in himself to (mostly) settle down; home is a place where Lance feels a little less homesick than he did in space with the sea breeze that lulls in through their perpetually open windows and rustles the sheers covering them. Home is where they’ve picked out an ugly vintage couch with floral print, where they debated which dish set they wanted only to end up with several mismatched pieces that somehow seem to go together, the place where they question if they have enough mugs for all the coffee that gets shared on early mornings and particularly late nights. Home is _here_ , with Keith and the sea and daily breakfast and the small cat they plucked out of a tree as a kitten.

And sometimes home feels a little too surreal for him, just like in this moment with Keith against the pillows they share, the warm summer breeze flittering past their opened shades, bathed in moon and starlight with the sound of the ocean waves crashing in the distance. It feels so unreal until Keith is grounding him like he does so often, sitting up and reaching out to pull Lance in until they’re nose to nose, until Keith is kissing him. 

Keith always kisses him like he’s dying, like it’ll be his last chance, or sometimes like he’s about to consume Lance because he’s the only thing he knows and the only thing he has to latch onto as the waves carry him under (and Lance can’t particularly blame him for that considering the fact they used to not know if they were going to wake up the next morning or survive the next battle). Lance will never find it in himself to complain, though. A kiss from Keith can be slow or rushed but it all feels the same to Lance – all consuming with no less than all of Keith’s heart poured into it.

It’s how he feels now as Keith pulls him back to the present, deft fingers sliding through the short brown strands at the back of his neck, settling in and pulling Lance in closer. His head tilts, their lips slotting together in a manner that’s a little more perfect than it was before (but who is Lance kidding, because kissing Keith is _always_ perfect, and if he was ever told he could only do one thing for the rest of his life – well, that would be it). Lance is brought back, brought down from his daydreams by the single source of his massively distracting thoughts. Lance is brought back enough to register where his hands are and where he wants them to be, allowing them to roam free over Keith’s hips, up his sides, eventually settling one on his lower back and the other on the bed to keep himself propped up because he needs it the second he feels Keith’s free hand slide over the growing bulge in the front of his boxers.

This is where Lance becomes pliant, where a soft whine slips out against Keith’s lips and he’s ready to take advantage of it. His lips part further to the tongue intruding, sweeping light over his bottom lip before tentatively pressing past, tongue meeting tongue only momentarily before Keith is easing back just enough to speak.

“Hey.” It’s soft and breathy against Lance’s lips and he returns it.

“Hey.” He smiles, squeezing the hip his hand has found its way to. He already knows what the next request is going to be before it comes.

“Switch spots with me,” Keith requests, leaving a peck on his lips before moving to accommodate.

And Lance doesn’t say no. Lance will _never_ say no the second Keith asks him to lie down, the second he’s asked to lie in one position or another. So long as it’s Keith, he’s comfortable, he feels safe, he knows it’s _right_ and he wouldn’t ask for anyone else or anything else.

Lance doesn’t complain about the cooler air against his erection when he’s lying back, boxers taken and discarded off to the side of the bed to add to the trail of their clothes that lead from the living room. It’s moments like this that Lance is thankful they live alone and their friends are smart enough not to just barge in any time they feel like it despite the keys they all have in case they’re in the area and _do_ need a place to crash, a safe haven from their busy city lives or a break from family. Lance doesn’t complain, only manages to make eye contact with Keith – Keith who’s looking at him like he kisses him, fond and overwhelming all at once, soft yet like he wants to devour him, to set every inch of his skin on fire until he’s squirming.

Moments like these are when Lance already feels like he _is_ internally squirming under all of Keith’s rapt attention, those violet eyes zeroed in like there is nothing else in the world. Sometimes he feels like he’s going to have an existential crisis because of that _look_. Just knowing Lance is the only one who will ever receive a look like that from Keith Kogane of all people can kind of scare him, make him wonder what he ever did to deserve it and then question it until Keith’s hands are on him, until his lips are on his calming him down and shushing him through it because Keith, naturally, is always the one who has to pretend to be the bigger person, the stronger shoulder, the one who keeps too much inside until it bubbles over and he’s giving Lance a chance to step up to the plate, to hit a homerun and bring him down from the panicked high he can get.

And then Keith _smiles_ , smiles that smile that is only for Lance and will only ever be for him, as well. It’s a smile Lance loves to see and a smile he wouldn’t trade for absolutely anything, because he was convinced for the longest of times that it was impossible for Keith to look so happy. (Now he knows why, however – knows that he’s the reason for Keith’s happiness, knows that Keith can kind of be a generally miserable dude but when he’s down with his feet in the surf watching Lance come back up from catching a wave that should have toppled him over or when they’re laughing their way back inside tracking sand after a bonfire for two complete with smores or when they’re curled up on the couch playing games or watching a movie they’ve seen a million times before that he can be the happiest person in the world and will let Lance know through body language, through smiles, through words that directly quell his worries). 

Lance relaxes underneath Keith’s touch, spreads his legs like he has so many times for Keith without shame anymore because he’s been shown that every inch of his body is loved, by this point. Maybe some of it is the fact that he’s grown into his body a little more than the awkward teenager he used to be, but he likes to believe part of it is thanks to Keith. It was Keith looking at him like he was the world when he wanted to give Keith that look because Keith _did_ deserve the world after all the shitty things that happened to him and the shittier way he had to find out about all his the secrets he didn’t know he had. It was Keith touching every centimeter of his skin and attempting to cover each of those same centimeters with kisses that Lance had lost count of, in the end.

Keith makes everything _so_ easy for him, his words low and whispered to the inside of Lance’s thigh in between light kisses in attempts to ease away any of the nerves that may have been welling in his stomach while clicking open a bottle of lube. Blue, blue eyes stay locked on those fingers as they warm up the liquid before he feels them at his entrance pressing in one, then two after he adjusts. It’s so simple, and if he wasn’t completely turned on before well – he was now. Keith didn’t make _that_ easy, so to say.

But this is easy enough, a familiar rhythm. Keith opening him, gentle and slow while kissing his thighs, teeth grazing Lance’s still prominent hip bones, tongue licking a hot stripe from the base to tip of his cock before swiping over his lips to clean them off. His fingers are precise as they always are in the way they press in and out, a gentle rhythm that’s steadily built, a stretch that’s sweet every time when those fingers slide, a burn that makes Lance tip his head back into the pillows to bare his neck and let out a low sigh when his prostate is circled.

Keith plants a kiss on that open neck, another a bit lower, and then one more right above the jut of Lance’s collarbone before teeth are sinking in slow and shallow. He sucks the spot to earn another small keening noise from Lance, one that’s his favourite and lets him know he’s good to remove his fingers, to back up and push down his own boxer briefs to complete the telltale trail, to get ready to unwrap a condom before he feels a hand on his wrist and words telling him not today.

Keith raises an eyebrow, giving Lance a questioning look before Lance gives him one of those dopey smiles, high off pleasure and ready to defy the rules.

“Not today, c’mon. Not like we have ‘em in space anyways, right? Once in awhile isn’t gonna hurt, Keith.”

The other words are unspoken. Words like _let me feel it tonight_ and _we’re safe all the time and it’s only us, why worry so damn much when it’s only ever been us from the start_. Words Keith is ok with and words Lance could say but it goes better off unsaid, because shifting his hips and uncapping a bottle and wrapping long slick fingers around Keith’s length is the easier way to convey how he feels, the easier way to urge Keith on without another question. 

Those fingers pull a shaky breath out of Keith as they work, a touch he’s been wanting all night but hasn’t been asking for because everything is always about Lance, everything will _always_ be about Lance and letting him have what he wants while Keith gives him all he has to give. Keith gave him free roam of his body, neck mottled with new bruises that would darken come morning and lips kiss-slick and red from what felt like hours of kissing (hours of kissing Keith he would never reject).

“Okay – _okay_. _Lance_ , Lance let me.”

And Lance lets him. Lance lets him after a lingering swirl against the head of Keith’s cock with his thumb before he’s leaning back and spreading his legs all over again and guiding Keith’s cock to his entrance while biting his bottom lip in anticipation, directing a nod at Keith to say _yes_ and _do it, please please please_.

The noise Lance makes is one of satisfaction and one of desperation as Keith pushes in past tight muscle. He takes a moment to attempt to breathe, to remember that he’s _here_ and Keith is _here_ and he’s definitely not floating away despite the fact that he’s felt like he’s lost his hold on reality all over again because no matter how many times they sleep together, Keith fucking him is a never ending cycle of him feeling like he’s losing his mind and burning up.

He’s warm all over already as Keith settles firm between his thighs, fully seated against Lance with soft breaths washing over the exposed skin of his neck where he’s still leaning down. Lance knows he’s trying to take his time with this with how he’s been since they stumbled back in their front doors from a day spent out in the sun and an evening spent underneath the stars relaxing, but right now all Lance wants is for him to _move_.

And Keith does. He props himself up a little more, looking down at where he’s connected to Lance before watching his hand as it trails up from his navel and the center of his chest before his hand rests above his heart, thumb brushing the edge of a faded scar. He gives Lance another one of those sweet smiles, one that’s soft and warm around the edges yet he can tell there’s more behind it with the way he’s looking at him. Lance inhales slowly, cheeks flushed as he rolls his hips as if asking for him to go on. 

Keith definitely does now. His hips ease back before thrusting forward once again, setting a rhythm that’s constant and gentle, slow and deep and half the time angled _just right_ to brush against Lance’s prostate and force a moan out of him that’s a little louder than the others. He’s always like this, needy and loud, only quiet when he knows he really has to be. He knows Keith likes it like that, witnesses it in the way the flush on Keith’s cheeks spreads and his breath hitches when Lance arches his back just a bit more, when his moan is just a little louder. 

Keith’s hips cant forward a bit sharper when Lance lets out a particularly loud moan, earning a curse from the darker haired boy as he bites down on his own bottom lip to keep himself quiet. He still looks at Lance like he’s ready to devour him, swallow him whole and take in everything about him like he’s already doing. He has concentrated intent on his face when he looks down at Lance and it almost would make him crawl out of his skin if the situation was different. Instead, he just spreads his legs a little further, fingers pressing into the back of his own thighs to raise them for Keith. He’s really sunk back into the pillows, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open between each burst of pleasure, each curl and lick of heat at the base of his spine.

“ _Keith_.” It sounds needy when he says it, tongue wetting his bottom lip. “I’m close, come on, _come on_.”

He wasn’t prepared to be so close, but Keith is ruthless the second his pace picks up a notch and Lance can’t find it in himself to take it with how slow the buildup had been, with how prolonged it was before they found themselves here in bed after the beach, the door, the edge of the couch.

“Okay.”

Keith complies, though. Again. Like always. He angles his hips a little more, one of his own hands joining Lance’s behind his knee on the back of his thigh to push it up a little more, to ground himself so that he feels like he has something to hold onto. He takes Lance’s other hand and traps it against the plush of the blankets, fingers laced.

“Okay, go ahead. Go ahead, Lance. Go ahead, I love you.”

“I love you, too. God, _fuck_ , I love you, Keith.”

Lance lets go then, eyes fluttering shut and giving into the all-consuming heat that’d been pooling in his stomach from the time their front door opened with Keith’s hands on his waist, Keith’s mouth on his, his hands in Keith’s hair. He groans low, squeezing tight to the hand in his, hips rolling up to meet Keith’s as he comes untouched across his stomach in hot ropes. Lance sees the way Keith looks at him when he does, melting back into their bed. He feels the other’s hips snap forward, buried deep as he releases with a shaky sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he comes back, eases out, lets his grip go gentle against Lance’s thigh. 

Then there are hands on Keith’s face, sliding through his hair and bringing _him_ back to the present, this time. Lance smiles up at him with one of those genuine smiles that are reserved only for when he’s especially content and happy, tugging Keith down so that he can kiss him full and sweet on the lips before he’s hearing that soft huff of laughter from Keith.

“Come on,” Keith murmurs, kissing him back. “Let’s get cleaned up.”


End file.
